


Of Forgotten Repercussions (And Arduous Lives)

by Of the League (Serpyre)



Series: Rise [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Aftermath, Gen, Mentions of Suicide, Missing Scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 20:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15803913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpyre/pseuds/Of%20the%20League
Summary: They had come in, like the clock-hand that tracked time with its ticks, one entering after the other every time the arm had struck twelve.Or, Lexa's five visitors after the bullet. Missing scenes from Inconsequential.





	Of Forgotten Repercussions (And Arduous Lives)

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: there are mentions/discussion of suicide in this chapter, so please be careful.
> 
> These are some missing scenes that happen during Chapter 1 of Inconsequential Titles. If you're not sure what that is, here's a quick rundown: Lexa is paralysed after Titus' bullet in 3x7. 
> 
> However, for this story, the timeframe is not continuous, so the next scene may be set before the first one, for example.

_It is at noon when they let Aden in._

_''Heda!'' He gasps when he sees me situated sat-up in bed, and shrugging off the guards he rushes to my side. I would've berated him for leaving his weapons behind, but I felt safer, without the threat of death—for I was a dishonoured Commander, and even Natblidas know when a Commander is better off dead—looming by my side._

_Does that make me a coward?_

_He seems distressed at the sight of my downcast face. Scans over my body. Looks at me with confusion. ''Heda, I don't understand. What is wrong?''_

_My eyes tear from his to Titus._

_Titus turns me by my side and pushes back enough fabric to reveal the ugly wound, a bandage covering, but the exit wound still obvious—it was where the black blood gushed from._

_His mouth forms a small o._

_Titus turns me back down, his caress gentle for a burly Flamekeeper of the likes of him. He was sorry, I could tell, for his mistake. And he was doing the best he could to help me through it, to make me comfortable, to take care of me—for though securing the Commander's next rule was his job, he cares about me, and hates himself for his mistake—he is easing me before my inevitable end, like the laden ships carrying Ra's to his death when dusk befell._

_And though he loves me, his duty to his people triumphs by the thousands._

_My chin lifts, and I nod to Titus, twice, and respectfully, he takes three steps back to his corner in the tent. Aden seems confused and worried, and I do not blame him, for what was to come._

_I produce a knife. His eyes widen; until I hold the knife by its blade, the hilt to his direction, and he fails to remain impassive. Understanding, surprise, horror—a new fear seems to crawl over him._

_He should not have shown weakness. It did not need to be harder than it already was._

_Clearing my throat, purging the emotion from my eyes—for it was hard enough as it were— "You have to do this for me.'' I tell him. "I called you for a reason. End my life. Become the new Commander—and promise me,_ **_promise me_ ** _that Clarke—Clarke's people will be safe. Understood?''_

_Aden stared at the blade and into my eyes for a moment, and I wondered—until he violently shook his head. Took a step back. "No. No, Heda, I will not do this.''_

_I try not to let my hands shake. The blood from my hand springs when I tighten my hold against it, coating, basking the licks of skin. ''It is the only way,'' I tell him, gravely, and I see Titus' face, a mask of stone. I push the blade closer to Aden, as far as I could go. Hoarse, bile, but I don't let it show. I was still Commander. ''Do it.''_

_Then, suddenly, Aden grabs the blade, and I feel brevity, hope, euphoria, an_ **_end_ ** _surging together—until he stuffs it in his armour, his coat, the blade disappearing from my reach. "I cannot,'' he states, and shakes his head again. "I believe in you, Heda.''_

_My throat builds up, with anger, dismay, bile, my voice ready to force him to do it—but I find myself swallowing the yells and the harsh commands, and settling for the bitter truth, as softly, as kindly as I could put it. "I am paralysed, Aden.'' I swallow a breath, for I was admitting it, and I couldn't accept it, not yet. Not right now, when his eyes are wide and his voice was stunted and when he looked at me like I was_ **_Commander_ ** _. Something none of them did now. "The Coalition will not accept a physically-incapable Commander, not if they had a choice. They will remove my Flame, kill me, and host another Conclave to determine a winner.''_

_Fear passes Aden's features, a flash. He does not school it into impassivity, however, like I taught him so many times on how to control his emotions. It would mean he feels safe enough not to hide his emotions around me, and my heart aches even more._

_For how could I have him kill me, when he trusts me so?_

_But I had to. For my people, for Clarke's people, for our future's sake._

_"Tell them I was murdered by Ontari, and tell them you witnessed her enter." My voice cracks, as I seek Aden's face desperately, for some smidgen of understanding, of reluctant acceptance, of something,_ **_anything_ ** _, but he doesn't meet my eyes. "Tell her you saw me die. Disqualify her from the Conclave. After you win the Conclave, execute her. Tell Polis it was for me. Understood?"_

_Quietly, his voice a haze nor a whisper: "No."_

_Desperation overwhelms me. "Do it, Aden!" I nearly scream. I have never felt so helpless in my life—without a knife, without a way out. Without my legs to storm up to him and demand he does as he was told. Titus stares at me, and I search his face for something—approval, disagreement, something,_ **_nothing._ ** _He wouldn't even guide me in making my choice. He wouldn't comment; wouldn't answer, wouldn't tell me if I was doing right or wrong._

_I should've ended myself in ritual suicide like Indra said. At least I could do something that I did not need to depend on others for. From leaving this damned bed to clothing and bathing, because of my wound, I feel like a two-year-old Natblida, dependent on everyone for their survival. My every move watched, guards stationed outside the tent 24/7, a caretaker—usually Titus, Anya or Clarke—to provide for me with what I needed, any independence I had stripped from me. I could not even relieve myself without help._

_That would be how it was, for the entirety of my short life._

_It does not have to be like this, I think. It could've ended a long time ago._

_But I did not want to die like_ **_that_ ** _. To die by my own hand; the utmost shame for a Commander. I wanted to go out fighting, a blaze of glory in the night..._

**_This is as close as it could get._ **

**_Not close enough._ **

_At Titus's gaze, I glare at Aden. If it were anything else, he would've shrunk, but if anything he seemed stronger, his back seemed to straighten, his voice grew louder, reassurance in his beliefs at my glare—and I see the makings of a Commander. "I command you to do as I say, Aden. It is my last request to you."_

_Aden shook his head, even stronger this time if it was possible. "No, Heda, I won't. You told me to disobey orders if they weren't right. You've never been wrong till now." At the markings of my protest, he glares at me. He_ **_glares_ ** _at me. I almost scoff in disbelief. How much power have I lost already?_

_"You can call in the next Natblida, and the one after that. I—Aden, Sharia, Orian, and the rest of them—ask them all, Heda, and I_ **_swear_ ** _to you by your eleven names, by the blade in my hand that should take my life if my oath untrue, that none of us will do it," and then he softens, as I stare at him, nearly gawking, for the Blood Oath he had sworn in the name of mine. "We don't want you to die, Lexa. Not after we've just found out you survived."_

_Neither do I. Not after what he said. But I still take a breath, and say, with less force than before, a quiet plead, but one for the opposite: "do it, Aden. For our people. For me."_

_"There's always another way," Aden stated, firmly, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at his insistence. "Like jus no drein jus daun," and at my hollow laugh: "like your Coalition. We won't let you make a mistake, Heda, not as big as_ **_that_ ** _. We love you, Lexa. We will find you another way out of this."_

_And after he leaves, I slam my fist in my bed in frustration and berate my useless legs._

_It is at noon when I see him the last time. After that, it was his head._

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about posting this for a while - at first, it spawned as a small one-shot idea I initially had with Aden and Lexa in Inconsequential, which I didn't get to add because I wanted to re-focus the plot. I'll be adding tags with characters as I update. 
> 
> Tell me who you think is next!


End file.
